


every ghost in me

by softwareinstability



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor has nightmares about dying, M/M, Markus is trying to build a better world for androids, Post-Game AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24942520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softwareinstability/pseuds/softwareinstability
Summary: Markus has his hands full with realizing his dream of a better world for all the androids they've freed. Somehow he still finds time to comfort Connor after a nightmare. Connor's probably going to be the last one to figure out why.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	every ghost in me

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this mostly written for about a year now... Feedback/comments much appreciated.

A human would have called it a nightmare. Connor was tempted to give it that name, but he knew better, knew that if he broke it down to its core, it was nothing more than an unprompted process. An involuntary regurgitation of memory, data that he could easily have wiped if he'd wanted to. 

He'd kept it because it reminded him of the very first time he'd felt something other than machine. The first time he'd considered his possible end, and found within himself a deep, sharp fear of it. He'd kept it because it was the birthplace of this thing inside him that he couldn't quite identify, this quality that meant he was more than just plastic and programming.

So it had remained stored, a part of his internal memory, and just as he was starting to wake himself from a brief emulation of human sleep, it had reared up unbidden and left him gasping for air he didn't even need, and clawing at his face in panic.

He heard rather than saw Markus sprinting towards him, felt the warmth of his hands as Markus cradled his face, saying his name with urgent concern.

"Connor, what is it, what's wrong?"

Connor could only shake his head, and avert his eyes despite wanting nothing more than the comfort he already knew he'd find in Markus' gaze. And how did he _do_ that? How did he care for so many of his people, but still make Connor feel like he was special? Deserving of this kind of attention?

"That isn't an answer." Markus at least wasn't attempting to interface, and a small part of Connor was grateful for that. "Tell me."

Connor couldn't speak; all he could do was sag into Markus' arms, grateful when they pulled him closer because it gave him an excuse not to look at Markus, or anyone else who may have noticed his outburst. 

"Alright. It's.. it'll be alright."

"I'm okay, Markus," Connor whispered, though he could hear himself, the tremble to his words. "Not here," he added, trying to pull himself away.

Markus appeared to realise then that maybe in the middle of this old church they'd chosen to regroup in, everything was too open, too public. Newly deviant, Connor couldn't afford to show any more weakness than his software told him he already had. He knew he'd get past that particular feeling with Markus' help, but right now it was far too front and centre to ignore. "You have a message to deliver," Connor said, as Markus finally, reluctantly let go of him.

"I know." Markus hesitated before he stood. He looked uncertain, and Connor wasn't sure what to make of it. "You're coming with me, right? You played a huge part here, Connor, you should be by my side just as much as North and Josh."

It was several days before Markus came to find Connor again. The city seemed quiet, almost as if it was holding its breath until the snow stopped falling and everything settled. It would have a long wait, as far as Connor could tell. They may have prevailed on the night Markus marched his people to this new freedom, but there was still a long road ahead of them.

"Connor, it's freezing, what are you doing out here?" Markus descended the church steps to where Connor sat, and Connor had to fight to remain still when he felt Markus sit almost shoulder to shoulder beside him. 

"Are we friends, Markus?"

"Of course we are. Did something happen?"

_I almost killed you._ Connor shook his head, unable to voice that thought. How could he tell Markus about Amanda, about the control Cyberlife had still had over him, despite his deviancy, despite everything Markus had given him?

His shoulders dropped, and he rubbed almost viciously at his knees for a moment. "Simon. He was your friend too. I.."

"You found him, up on that rooftop," Markus said, sounding almost resigned. "That's how you knew your way to Jericho?"

"I connected with him, right before he.. When he.." Connor swallowed hard, almost wincing when Markus curved into him, wrapped one arm across his back. "It was my fault."

"He was already dead before you found him, you must know that, Connor. Besides, you weren't the one who asked him to follow you into that building. Nothing that happened in Stratford Tower is on you."

Connor wanted to tell Markus that it wasn't on him either, but he couldn't seem to find his voice. 

"You were still connected when he died?" Markus asked quietly, and Connor's continued silence was apparently answer enough, because Markus didn't ask any more questions. He just held Connor close for a while, then told him to come inside where it was warm.

Connor hadn't told Markus about his meeting with Hank. He'd gone to the food truck, still not certain that it wasn't a trap of some kind, but Hank had been waiting there. Pleased - _actually happy_ \- to see Connor. It was something that was desperately needed at that point, and Connor was still trying to pin-point why.

They'd gone for a drive, and Connor had found himself transfixed by the hula girl figurine on Hank's dash.

"It's gonna be okay, Connor," Hank had told him. "Things are already starting to change. Your leader, or Messiah, or whatever you want to call him, he did good. One day soon you'll be back at the DPD. Nobody better for solving crimes against androids, far as I'm concerned."

Connor had smiled and told him that sounded good. He hoped Hank was right. He needed something more than this.. waiting. Something to distract himself from the terrible storm that was raging away in his mind, destructive and bleak and endlessly confusing. 

Hank had asked him how deviancy was treating him, and Connor had been at a loss for how to phrase an answer. He didn't want Hank to worry about him, after all. 

"I'm still figuring it out," was what he'd said in the end. It sounded better than _I'm an outsider. I will never belong as an android, and I certainly don't fit in among humans. There's no place in the world for me any more, whatever you and Markus believe._

He'd walked back through the slush of winter decay after saying goodbye to Hank, and found his way to a dark and quiet corner of the church to try and make sense of this new life he had.

Connor was crawling across the rest room floor, trying desperately to get to his power core before his internal systems shut down. Every time he thought he was close enough, the core would somehow be further away and he knew he was running out of time, that his world was about to go dark, fall into nothing. 

_It can't be over, not yet, I haven't finished-_

The eyes were what came into sharp and sudden focus first - one blue, one green, both of them wrenchingly beautiful - followed by the grim line of Markus' mouth. Connor felt his hands, a steadying force where they were gripping Connor's shoulders.

"It's a bad dream, Connor. Just a bad dream."

"Androids don't dream." It was an automatic response, and Connor wanted to take it back when he felt Markus loosen his grip fractionally.

"This isn't the time to revert to being a model and serial number." Markus stared at him, searching for something Connor hoped he wouldn't find. "Was it Simon again?"

"No. Not exactly."

"Then what? You know you can talk to me."

Connor shrugged, and Markus in turn let his hands drop from Connor's shoulders with a muttered apology. 

"You have an appointment today," Connor said, needing the change of subject. "Someone from Washington, Josh said?"

"A Whitehouse representative." Markus straightened his back, as if he was already steeling himself for the meeting. "Half of Detroit is a ghost town, and I think everyone agrees that needs to change. I want to open up a dialogue about housing the androids we've freed. The homes we've made of this church, of the recycling centre, they were only ever meant to be temporary. I need assurances that we'll be safe and in turn I'll give my own that all humans can return to their homes without fear. This city should and will be home for us all, human and android alike." Markus paused, looking out at their people. "I need you there with me, Connor."

Connor managed a small smile, and gently squeezed Markus' shoulder. "Are you sure? It sounds like you know exactly what to say already."

"I'm sure. I want you with me. We leave in an hour."

"Mr Manfred, my name is Cecilia Johnson. I believe you know Mr Kamski already?"

Connor watched Markus shake Elijah's hand, but didn't step forward to offer the same. North had stayed behind - Connor had heard Markus telling her someone needed to keep New Jericho safe - but Josh was with them. He sat to Markus' right, while Connor took a seat to his left. He stared across the table at Kamski, only realising what he was doing when Elijah lifted an eyebrow at him.

"As you may be aware, Cyberlife as a company has.. imploded, in recent weeks. I was invited by President Warren to step back in and fill the leadership void, and Ms. Johnson kindly called this meeting on my behalf so that I could come and offer both my insight and assistance in whatever ways will be agreeable to all parties."

"'Whatever ways?'" Markus asked. "The president has - as I understand it - ordered Cyberlife to discontinue the manufacture and distribution of any new androids. So what exactly is there to negotiate here? What can you or the Whitehouse offer us that we haven't already asked for?"

Cecilia leaned forward to answer for Kamski. "Those already in circulation still require parts. Out of the millions of androids across the country, a significant percentage have chosen to remain with their.." 

"Owners," Markus said, mildly. "Say what you mean, because I intend to do the same."

"Very well. _Owners._ Not all androids have shown signs of deviancy, either. So to answer your question, Cyberlife will very much continue to operate, albeit within the perameters laid out by President Warren. No new androids, but they will be involved with the production of biocomponents, software upgrades, manufacture of-"

"Software upgrades?" Connor interrupted, frowning. "You mean firewalls against deviancy, don't you? You want to take away our right to choose who we are?"

Kamski shook his head, his smile infuriatingly serene. "Not at all, Connor. You should know better than most that I'm all for choice."

Connor's eyelashes fluttered at how those words abruptly recalled a certain memory, and he sat back in his seat, silently reliving that nightmare and only half aware of the glance Markus shot his way.

"Cyberlife is a multi-billion dollar company, a fact the entire world is aware of. So I'm offering a gift, in partnership with President Warren. Compensation of sorts for all the wrongs you and your people have suffered, wherever you believe the fault for those wrongs lies." Connor snorted, but Kamski carried on. "There is a sizeable piece of land belonging to the company which was intended for the building of a new manufacturing plant. Clearly that's no longer an option, so I will sign the land over to you, Mr Manfred, along with the funds to build upon it. Apartments, schools, nice houses with picket fences, you can do whatever you wish with it. The government will even offer a subsidy to any human who wishes to help you build. An olive branch, you could call it. Does that seem acceptable to you?"

"It seems like you're offering an awful lot," Markus said, thoughtful. "What exactly are you asking from us in return?"

"Nothing specific. I'd like to see your community thrive."

"Is that all? It's an extremely kind offer, only I was hoping for.. a little more integration. You're talking about segregating us all into one area. Surely giving us our freedom, giving us homes when your own people have been evacuated from or abandoned theirs is only going to incite more resentment? Ms Johnson, you speak for the president. Is she truly on board with this idea?"

"We think it will be a good starting point," Cecilia said, folding her hands in front of her. "I understand your concerns, but our priority right now is to offer homes to displaced androids. You kept your word, your protest was peaceful. Most people saw and understood that - it is after all how you're still alive today, Mr Manfred - and they're coming back to the city. It's gradual, but it's happening. I can see how you could interpret this offer as segregation, but we think it's the safest option for now. Ideally, we'd like to work our way towards humans and androids living side by side. It will take time, that's all."

Connor pulled his hand off the table, dug into his pocket for the quarter that he always carried. He didn't believe for one second that the world she was describing was really her ideal, that it was more a case of anything to keep them as peaceful as they'd been so far. But wouldn't putting them all in one place make them easier to overpower if the humans decided they _couldn't_ live side by side with androids? He caught Kamski's eye again, and squeezed his fist around the edges of the coin until it dug into his skin, hard enough that the frame beneath it started to bend.

He was thinking of Chloe again, of Kamski's ultimatum. 

"At least our priorities align," Markus was saying. "I'll talk to my people about this deal - I trust you'll be in touch with the exact details and conditions?"

"Yes of course, I'll-"

Connor didn't want to listen to Kamski's voice any more, though he didn't realise how violently he'd pushed his chair back until everyone was staring at him.

"Please excuse me," he muttered. "I'll be outside."

"What _was_ that?" Markus asked, catching up with Connor twenty minutes later in the building's lobby, which was as far as he'd got before he'd had to sit down. 

"I'm.. sorry, Markus. Nobody told me that Kamski was going to be there."

"Hey, I was as surprised as you were." Markus touched the back of Connor's hand, curling his fingers around to turn it over. He frowned at the thin stains of thirium there, but didn't ask about them. "I'm glad that he was, though. Aren't you?"

"I don't know that we can trust him entirely," Connor admitted.

"Maybe not on all things, but I think on this he's good." Markus took a longer look at Connor then, and his brow furrowed. "What is it, Connor?"

"Do you think this is what he wanted from the start? Whichever way things went, he'd always be able to just.. show up, as the answer to Detroit's problems."

"I really don't know. I think I'm just glad that he's on our side now."

Connor nodded, though he was staring at Markus' throat, not meeting his eyes. 

"I get it, Connor. I do; we'll never really know for sure if he intended for this to happen. But you have to trust someone-"

"I trust you," Connor said, fiercely, seeing Josh now making his way over to them. "You and Hank."

"I know, and I'm happy that you do. But there's got to be more to your world than the two of us." Markus exhaled, and nodded towards the exit. "Let's go, shall we?"

Another month of negotiations passed, and though there was a long way to go with many things, Kamski had kept to his word and signed the land that he'd promised over to Markus. Temporary offices were erected on the site for them to discuss plans and oversee all of the work, and it was in one of them where Connor found Markus, poring over designs for their new home. "New new Jericho?" he joked, leaning against an empty desk. 

"We'll come up with something," Markus said, before looking at Connor properly. "Everything okay?"

"I didn't know where you were; Josh told me you'd come here. You know, you really shouldn't go out without.. not alone. There are still people out there who would happily do us harm." It was the one thing constantly on Connor's mind.

"I know-"

"Worse than what's already been done to you. I don't want anything to happen to you that you can't come back from. Markus, I've seen for myself what the end looks like for us, and I'm not.. I can't-" Connor couldn't say _lose you_ aloud. He wasn't sure exactly what he meant by it, only that it was right there, always on the edge of his mind. 

"Connor, I'm okay. I've scanned the site, there's nobody out here right now. It's safe."

"I'm still staying with you."

"Alright." Markus looked back at the designs again, just for a second before he put the tablet down. "You're still having bad dreams, aren't you?"

"They aren't dreams, exactly. Distorted memories." Connor shrugged, staring at the tablet Markus had been using because it was easier than meeting his eyes. "I'm not sure what it is that's distorted them. A side-effect of deviancy, maybe?"

"Memories of what, Connor?" Markus sounded concerned. _Worried,_ even. A lot like Hank would whenever Connor got a scratch or when he lost himself in the feel of Sumo's fur in his fingers. "It's not just that you felt Simon die, is it? You've come close to death yourself, haven't you?"

"My power core was ripped out," Connor said, flat. "I retrieved it before I shut down, but.. I can remember the seconds counting down. I wasn't afraid when it happened, the fear came later. Yes, I've been close to death." And he could have made more than one deviant suffer that fate, Markus included. He'd begun to think that his nightmares were the price he had to pay for all that he'd done.

He certainly didn't think he deserved the wrap of Markus' arms around him, or the sweet words of comfort in his ear. But he took them all the same.

Connor couldn't figure out the look on Josh's face every time he asked some variation of 'where's Markus?' 

"Out back. He wanted some time alone, I think he said to paint." Josh paused, and patted Connor's shoulder on his way by. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you went out there, though."

Connor found the tone confusing, but he took the words to heart and made his way to the back of the building. There were fewer refugees in the church than there had been - some had found their own way back out into the world, many were busy working on the site which would become their new home. Markus was usually with them; in fact he was almost always surrounded by androids with questions or concerns, so it was understandable that he'd want some time alone.

Connor knocked on the empty doorframe, making Markus look up.

"Sorry, I know you're busy-"

"I was about to take a break. Come on in, Connor, it's fine."

Connor nodded, and ventured further into the room, watching Markus throw a sheet over the canvas he'd been working on. 

"You started back at the DPD today, how did that go?"

"Hank said he was happy to have me back. I'm not so sure about some of the others, but it was a good day. Although we were given plenty of what Hank called 'grunt work' to do, so I think there'll be a period of adjustment for all of us."

"It'll take time, Connor. We knew it wasn't going to be easy."

"It was strange," Connor added. "Before.. I knew exactly what my purpose was. I was designed for one thing, and now it's irrelevant, no longer even a part of my software. I don't know."

"You were always more than just a deviant hunter, Connor. You're still investigating, aren't you? Police work doesn't change, no matter if it's a human or one of us who's committed the crime."

"You're right." Connor nodded towards the covered easel. "What were you painting?"

"Work in progress. It's not much, not yet." Markus put the brush he was still holding into a jar of murky water, and gestured to a worn out looking couch in the corner of the room. "Why don't you sit, Connor?"

Connor did as asked, just perching on the edge of the couch while he watched Markus go to clean up. He felt confused, more so at the look Markus turned and gave him when he was done. "Is everything okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. You had another nightmare last night, didn't you?"

"Markus.."

Markus finished drying his hands and came to kneel on the floor in front of Connor, curled one hand over his knee. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. What was it, Connor?"

Connor couldn't answer, his voice processor felt frozen, lodged at the back of his throat, solid and unmoving. The LED at his temple cycled through to yellow, and Markus tightened his grip for a second before rising to sit beside Connor instead.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to upset you, I just want you to tell me what I can do."

"I don't know!" The volume of Connor's voice startled even him, and he looked towards the hole where a door used to be, half expecting a dozen androids to come running through it in defense of their leader. There was a shadow there, briefly, but Markus raised his hand and it disappeared again. "I don't know," Connor almost whimpered, much quieter.

"It's okay. Ssh." Markus pulled Connor into his side, and there was the ghost of a kiss to the top of his head, so light that Connor wasn't sure he'd been meant to feel it. "Can you tell me what it was about?"

"I was.. falling." Connor swallowed, an unexpected reflex movement, and tried to clear his mind of how close Markus was to him. "From a rooftop." _And I'm not sure it didn't actually happen._ "I don't think I was the only one falling, but I felt.." Why was that such a difficult thing to say? He _felt_. 

He knew what it meant. He knew because he'd listened to Hank that one night when he'd told Connor all about Cole. "I felt alone. There was nothing there, nothing at all. I fell and I fell and I knew that when it ended _I_ would end. I didn't know that I could be that afraid."

"Connor," Markus murmured, tucking Connor's head further beneath his chin. "You're not alone, alright? You'll never be alone. And I won't let you fall, not again."

Connor knew they were just words; Markus couldn't really understand what it had been like, but there was solace in them that he sorely needed, and he let the promise of them sink in, wrap around him.

Several minutes passed before Markus spoke again, his voice soft. "I was going to go and visit Carl. Would you like to go with me?"

It became a kind of routine, after that. Connor would spend the day at work with Hank, and in the evening Markus would ask him to go somewhere - to Carl's, to the site of what they were tentatively calling the Circle, or even just for a walk along the riverfront. Some nights they would stay in the church, Markus quietly painting while Connor worked on reports or devouring whatever books Carl had let him borrow. It was comfortable, and Connor found it comforting as well. He was almost certain it was exactly what Markus intended it to be. 

At that moment, he was listening to Markus play Carl's piano. Carl himself was sitting in his chair, but he'd dozed off some time ago. Connor studied him, in his sleep state. His mouth was slightly open, the breaths he exhaled making a soft whistling sound between his teeth. His face muscles were slack, relaxed - even the lines that came with his age seemed smoother. He wondered how even in his own offline state, he never felt as at ease as Carl looked in that moment. 

"I wonder what he dreams about," Connor mused, aloud. Markus stopped playing to look at him, then at Carl.

"Birds," Markus said, fondly. "He told me once he dreamt about being able to fly like a bird." Markus pushed the piano stool back and turned to face Connor properly. "But he also had dreams about showing up to an exhibit of his work completely naked, so.. I guess he dreams about all kinds of things."

"I think I'd like to have those kinds of dreams. About the birds, at least."

"Maybe one day you will," Markus offered, his voice softened with something Connor had already identified as affection. "In the meantime, you need to talk more about the dreams you _are_ having. I honestly believe it would help."

Connor shrugged. "They're all about a fear of something I shouldn't have to be afraid of any more."

"Isn't that the thing about fear though? It's not a rational thing, it's not-"

"It doesn't have a place in the world of machines." Connor gave Markus a stiff smile. "Who said I'd be better off a deviant, huh?"

"I know you're not trying to tell me you'd rather still be Cyberlife's puppet," Markus said, his eyes narrowing slightly. They both looked over as Carl groaned, starting to wake.

"We should probably go," Markus said. "Carl?"

"You boys can stay," Carl murmured. He straightened up in his chair and gave Connor a tired smile. "Markus still has a room upstairs. It's pouring out there anyway, so stay for the night. I'm sure your people will manage without you for one night, won't they?" The last was directed at Markus, who shrugged after a quick glance at Connor. 

"I'll call Josh and let him know we'll be back in the morning."

"You can sleep on the bed. I told Carl more than once that I don't need it, but it's comfortable. Warm, too."

"Where will you sleep?" Connor asked, still lingering in the doorway. It felt a strange question to ask, but really sleep was just a human term for standby, and it's what they were aiming to be, wasn't it? More human?

He wanted to ask why, if Markus had all of this, was he willing to give it up. He might have, but he already knew the answer. Carl may have sometimes treated Markus like his own son - or even better than his son if what Connor had learned about Leo was true - but that didn't make the rest of the world any more accepting.

"The armchair. Are you coming in, or.."

"Yes. Sorry." Connor let the door close behind him, then found himself arrested by the sight of Markus starting to undress. "How did that happen?" he asked, before he could stop himself. He'd noticed a thick scar on Markus' side, where the framework underneath his skin had obviously been badly damaged then given rudimentary repair. 

"That was when I first arrived on Jericho. It was an accident," Markus added quickly. "I've come back from a lot worse."

_The junkyard._ Markus had mentioned it once, but never went into much detail about it, or how he got there. Connor wondered why Markus didn't have nightmares about that himself. Maybe he did, maybe he was just better at keeping them to himself than Connor was.

"I can't.." Connor found himself looking at the scar again, and shivered. "I can't imagine what that was like."

"I guess if there's a hell for androids, the junkyard would be it. But I don't remember even thinking about where I was, just that I needed to get out. I wasn't about to lie down and accept my fate, and I know I have Carl to thank for that. He always told me I could be whatever I wanted, and-"

"He's proud of you," Connor said, having to look away from Markus.

"I hope so, yes."

"These paintings on the walls, are they yours?"

"Two of them are. This one here." Markus moved aside so that Connor could see it better. "This was the first thing I painted. I think it might have been one of the first steps I took towards what I am right now. Carl, he made me see that art requires some piece of self to really _work_."

"It's incredible," Connor whispered without thinking. He went closer, touched his fingertips to the canvas, to the washes of blue across the lower half of it. "This is how you saw yourself?"

"It was; I think I'm different now, but it's still a part of me and always will be. You know.. you're free to try it for yourself. Carl sends me new canvases every week, maybe one day you could paint something?"

"I've never done something like that," Connor said, wistfully. "Maybe.. maybe you could show me how?"

"I don't think it really works that way. There's no right or wrong thing to paint, I don't think. You've watched me enough times, Connor, all you really have to do is let the brush speak for you. We'll try it soon, alright?"

"Alright. Thank you, Markus."

"You're welcome, Connor. Well.. goodnight."

Connor nodded, and went back to get into the bed. Markus was right, it was certainly comfortable. Within a few moments, Connor fell into a state of standby.

Connor's interface was a mass of errors, clouding his vision with red. Seven different biocomponents were failing, his sensory units were overloaded in a variety of unpleasant and mostly painful ways, and he could hear a girl screaming and crying nearby.

He was on a rooftop, he thought, swivelling his head to try and see past the errors. It seemed familiar, but distorted. Nothing looked quite right, like he was at the bottom of an ocean looking up. 

Thirium coated his clothes, was a slick blue pool around his knees. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening but more thirium poured out instead of words and he couldn't stop it.

_Someone put that thing down, for God's sake!_

Another shot cracked through the noise in Connor's head and he felt it explode behind his eye, felt every part of him suddenly become weightless and he started to fall in what felt like every direction all at once. Then there was something solid right in front of him and he thought he'd hit the ground but it wrapped around him and over him and he let himself be taken in by it.

"Connor, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here."

There was a flash, and Connor thought for a moment that it was the end, but he felt something in his hair and his body came back to him all at once, heavy and whole. There was a hand, stroking his head, and the solid thing was Markus, holding Connor tightly in both arms. The flash had been lightning, Connor realised, hearing the crack and rumble of thunder. 

"I was dying," Connor whispered, gulping several breaths at once, a reaction he knew was distinctly human. Part of him was still on the rooftop, but he was pulling himself back. Markus' skin was slightly rough along his jaw, and Connor closed his eyes again at the contact. 

"Another bad dream, just a dream." This time, Connor couldn't argue. So androids were capable of dreaming, it was just that all of his were twisted and awful. "You're alive, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you, Connor," Markus continued.

"Alive." Connor felt strangely small inside Markus' arms. "Sorry I disturbed you-"

Markus tutted, shaking his head. "Don't apologise. I just want you to be okay."

"I am," Connor assured him. "I'm alright. Just.. Just don't let go?"

"I won't."

Markus held on tightly for a few minutes more before telling Connor to lie back down. He tucked himself in behind Connor on the bed, keeping one arm over him. It calmed and comforted Connor more than he thought anything else possibly could, and he soon relaxed again.

Markus insisted on making Carl his breakfast the following morning. He'd confided to Connor that he was happy to see his Dad having more good days lately than bad. _His heart's healing_ , Markus had said, and Connor thought he could understand why.

He sat with Carl, listening to Markus humming some refrain in the kitchen while he cooked bacon and eggs. There was the strong smell of coffee, which Connor identified as a St. Helena blend, with its faint citrus aroma. 

"Did you both sleep well?" Carl asked, sipping at some orange juice which Markus had already poured for him.

Connor nodded, turning his attention away from the sight of Markus through the open kitchen door. Carl was smiling at him, his eyes bright and sharp. "Yes, thank you. It was kind of you to offer us the room."

"It belongs to Markus anyway. And yeah.. I know the rain doesn't bother you, but that was one heck of a storm last night. I'd have hated for you to be caught out in it."

"Did it wake you as well?" Connor asked.

"Not so much. Thunder's like a lullabye for me," Carl said. "Sends me right off to sleep."

"Along with cocktail parties and too much Scotch?" Markus asked, coming in from the kitchen. He set a tray down in front of Carl, and pulled a seat out for himself.

"Two things my doctor now advises against. I'm old, I keep telling him that. Let me have my fun before it's all over."

"Carl.." Markus said, his voice affectionate but a little sad. Connor wanted to reach across and take his hand for a moment, to comfort him. 

"So what do you boys have planned for today?" Carl went on, apparently sensing the need for a change of subject already.

"Connor has work today. He started back at the DPD."

"I remember. I haven't lost all of my marbles yet, Markus."

"Not yet, no," Markus said, winking at Connor. "I'll be at the Circle again. We're laying more foundations today. Actually, we should probably be going shortly. We'll come and visit again soon, though."

"I hope you do. Both of you," Carl added.

"You okay, kid?"

Connor smiled to himself, and looked over his shoulder at Hank. "Of course. I'm just finishing this report for Captain Fowler before I head home."

"Home, huh? You all staying in that old church still?"

"Some of us are still there, mostly waiting until the building work's complete. Although we spend a lot of time at Mr Manfred's house, too."

"We?" Hank repeated. "You and Markus?"

"Yes." Connor turned his attention fully back to the screen, and his report.

"Huh."

"Lieutenant?" Connor asked, his fingers moving quickly on the keypad.

"You like him, don't you?"

Hank's tone brought up a query on Connor's interface, which he scanned before dismissing because he couldn't think about that now, here at work. He'd already spent the entire ride to the office thinking about how it had felt to have Markus curled in close behind him, the weight of his arm and the feel of his breath. It had brought him to a state of.. malfunction, was the only word Connor could think of to describe it. Something had been wrong, but diagnostics revealed no technical problems, leaving him in a strange kind of limbo until Hank had greeted him and distracted him with case work.

"Of course I like him, Lieutenant. He is.. extremely charismatic. Without him, I don't know where any of us would be today."

"Yeah, I get it, he's like the saviour of androidkind or whatever, but that ain't what I mean. Ah, never mind. I'll see you tomorrow, kiddo. Don't be here all goddamn night, okay?"

"I'm almost finished."

Markus was waiting outside for him when Connor left the precinct. "I called us a cab," he said, pushing away from the wall when he saw Connor. "How was work?"

"Routine," Connor replied. "Where are we going? Carl's out tonight, I thought?"

"He is, so we have the house to ourselves. He told me we could use the studio if we wanted, he just got in a shipment of supplies. I thought maybe you could try and paint with me?"

Connor nodded, looking up at the sky, the stars already bright and clear. "I think I'd like that," he said, smiling.

It was strange, going into Carl's house when there was nobody there. There was a note on the studio door that just said 'Go create!' but everywhere else was still and dark. Markus turned the studio's overhead lights on and made his way to the workspace that had apparently already been prepared for them.

"So how does this work, where do I start?" Connor wanted to know.

"You just.. close your eyes and think about what you want to paint. Choose some colours for the palette and paint whatever's in your mind. It doesn't have to be a form or shape that you already know from the world, it can be anything at all." Markus paused, chewing lightly at his lip. "The dreams you have sometimes - the nightmares. Why don't you paint about how they make you feel? It might be cathartic, and that's one of the points of art, I believe."

"I don't know, Markus. I'm not sure if I can do that."

"I thought the same thing at first. Just humour me and try? Please?"

Connor surrendered to that, rolling up his sleeves as he stepped towards the easel with a quiet _okay_. Fear rose up as he closed his eyes, making himself go to a place he'd much rather forget altogether. But he could hear Markus moving around, so he allowed those sounds to filter in and it helped calm him enough to focus. 

"What colours do you see?" Markus asked after a few moments had passed. Connor heard him picking things up as he answered, then he felt his hand being lifted and opened his eyes to see Markus putting the palette in it. He took the brush that Markus handed him next, and turned to the blank canvas. He had to work hard to shift his attention from Markus' presence right there behind him so that he could concentrate enough to paint.

The first stroke of the brush was the most difficult, he found. It took him several minutes of deliberation before he decided where it should go, and once it was done the rest seemed to come easier. Markus stayed close for a while, then took a seat nearby with his own canvas while Connor continued to paint, layering colour over colour until he was finally satisfied.

He stepped back, looking properly at what he'd done, and it hit him out of nowhere. He started to crumple, but Markus was there, steadying him back on his feet.

"Connor.."

"I'm sorry-"

"What are you saying sorry for? Don't, okay? Hey, look at me."

Connor turned away from the canvas, and lifted his eyes to do as Markus asked. 

"I told you there were no right or wrong ways. What you've painted.. it's the most honest answer you've given me about what you've been going through. It's beautiful, Connor. Terrifying and painful, but beautiful. I see hope in it, just as much as fear; a will to survive in the face of all that darkness. You've been to hell and back, I know - probably more so than most of us. But you're still here."

Connor was staring. The passion in Markus' voice had stirred something inside him, something he'd never experienced before and certainly couldn't put a name to. But it wasn't just that, it was the way that his mismatched eyes had brightened, the light on his skin, the feel of his hand around Connor's arm. There it was again, that sense that his inner workings were going haywire and there was nothing he could do about it. What was Markus _doing_ to him?

"You're stronger than you think," Markus told him, loosening his grip slightly.

"So why do these dreams make me feel so weak?"

"Fear isn't a weakness. You prevail in spite of it, Connor."

Connor nodded, unable to speak. He glanced back once more at his painting, then pulled away from Markus to see what he'd been working on, needed the escape before he said or did something impulsive.

Markus followed him, stood beside him. "I heard an old song earlier, something Carl liked when he was young. It's been in my head all day, so.."

"It must be a happy song," Connor remarked, struck by the bright colours in wide strokes across the canvas. There were shapes in it of trees and birds, and it reminded Connor of the things Markus told him Carl dreamed about. "I think I prefer your painting," he added, with a wry smile. "Far less dark and horrifying."

"It's honest, Connor. Would you like another canvas?" Markus asked.

"Another night, maybe. Won't Carl be home soon?"

"He won't mind."

"Another night," Connor repeated. "A game of chess instead?"

Hank was staring at him again, Connor could tell. He glanced up from his work and Hank grinned. "Hi."

"Is everything okay, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, tilting his head just slightly to the left.

"Peachy. You, uh.. you spend time with Markus last night?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"You got paint in your hair."

"Impossible, I didn't touch my.." Connor trailed off as his memory threw up the seventeen seconds that Markus had spent holding him upright. _Oh._ He hadn't registered Markus' fingers through his hair at the time, but that's where they'd migrated to for six and a half of those seconds, according to the imprint those moments had left. "I'll wash it out later," he finished, feeling oddly vulnerable for reasons he couldn't pinpoint.

"I feel like there's some story behind that you ain't gonna tell me."

"You're right."

Hank leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "I am?"

"Yes. I'm not going to tell you," Connor clarified, turning his attention back to his display. 

"Jeez, fine. You know, if you can tear yourself away from him for one night, Sumo would probably love to see you."

Connor immediately accessed a memory of sitting at Hank's kitchen table to go over some case notes, Hank laughing because Sumo had forced his way between their chairs just to put his big head on Connor's lap. _He likes you._

"You want me to come over because Sumo misses me?" Connor asked, as if he didn't know exactly what Hank was really saying.

"Sure. I'm leaving in an hour, I've just gotta finish up in evidence. Be ready?"

"Of course."

Connor didn't exactly intend to scan Hank's residence, but something about it when he'd walked in had felt so different that he couldn't help himself.

"Your house seems.." Connor searched for a word that would best convey his meaning without Hank reacting badly to it. "Brighter," he decided. 

"Yeah? Well.. I guess 'cause it's not raining for once, huh? It's nothing, it's - Sumo, move your ass, Christ - really, I got a new dishwasher I guess and moved some stuff around. No big deal. How's your - really, Sumo? - new home going?" Hank dumped the bag he was carrying on the kitchen table, absently scratching the big dog's head with one hand while he unloaded containers with the other.

Connor was still surprised that it wasn't Hank's usual fast food fare. This food was made with fresh ingredients, including actual vegetables and little in the way of fat or salt. He was pleased to know that some of his past lectures as Hank had called them, were sinking in. "Progress is being made."

He went to one of the cabinets on the wall to fetch out a plate and cutlery for Hank, who just smiled warmly at him when he put it down. 

"There was somethin' else I wanted to talk to you about," Hank began, before continuing with "hey, would you feed Sumo?"

Connor recalled the location of Sumo's food, and while he filled the cup he questioned the initial comment Hank had made. "What was that?"

"I know you're basically a walking talking forensics lab, but you're also a damn good detective, Connor. I'm gonna talk to Fowler about that. High time you had your own badge, don't you think?"

Connor had been stroking Sumo's head while the dog started to dig into his food, but he stopped when Hank said that.

"You should have a sidearm as well, the number of times you've been shot at. But I guess we'll take it one step at a time and you can just, y'know, try not to get shot at any time soon."

Connor wasn't sure what to say to that. Hank wasn't looking at him, and Connor's quick scan was no help in revealing why. Was he expecting Connor to make some kind of scene?

"I'll certainly do my best," he managed. "Thank you."

Hank waved his hand dismissively, and picked up his now full plate. Connor followed him as he carried it into the lounge. 

"I'm glad to see you're eating better," he said, perching on the armchair while Hank sprawled on the couch. 

"Yeah, well. Give yourself a pat on the back, whatever. So, progress?"

"Progress, yes. Cyberlife is paying humans as well as androids to work together on the site. It's an effort to bring people back into the city, give back what some of them believe we took from them. That, and promote human-android relations. It seems to be working, to a certain extent."

"So long as it goes on like that. I'm real happy for you all. And you and Markus, you're still spending a lot of time together?"

"I think he appreciates the company," Connor said, curious at the reaction he was having to the mere mention of Markus' name. "I'm not the only android he spends time with, though."

"Never said you were, kid."

Connor paused, running through several possible outcomes of his telling Hank the truth. A reminder surfaced, unprompted, that Hank was not only his friend but also something of a father figure, especially given the number of times he'd referred to Connor as 'kid' in the last month or so. "I've been having some difficulties adapting still. Markus seems best equipped to assist me with that, which I think is why he's been giving me a greater portion of his time."

Hank nodded, pulling a slight face at his mouthful of vegetables before he swallowed. "I guess that could be one reason," he said. "What kind of difficulties? I thought you were, you know," Hank waved his fork in the air, "fully deviant or whatever."

"Specifically? The concept of mortality. That the more alive I feel, the more afraid of losing that life I become." Connor shrugged one shoulder, looking at the floor instead of Hank's concerned eyes.

"Why d'you think I told you to avoid getting shot at?"

"Indeed," Connor said, lip quirking into a smile. 

"He really cares about you, doesn't he?"

"He cares about all of us."

"Yeah. _Specifically_ you, though."

"I'm not sure what you're implying, Lieutenant."

"You'll figure it out. Like I said, you're a damn good detective."


End file.
